Lest We Forget

FROM THE TRENCHES

Death, you walk among us every day, I fear you not.

You bring with you a sweet relief to those too tired too escape you.

No more mud, no more stench, no more whistles.

“Up and at ‘em boys”, over the top, kill the Hun, what fun!

Shattered bodies, bullets flying, “Look out boys, it’s gas”.

Torment, beyond our realms of belief,

For this we left our Mothers’ breast,

For England, God, and King.

Earth stained red with rotting corpses,

We couldn’t stop and bring them back.

I’m sorry Mother, I really am,

We wanted to, we really did.

“Over by Christmas”, someone said,

Not this year boys, and maybe never.

We’ll go on dancing the dance of death,

Why not, it’s a lovely war!

CASUALTIES OF WAR

Marching proudly off to war, wearing uniforms with pride,

Within a few weeks most were gone, innocence had died.

Cannon fodder for the guns, casualties of battle,

Victims of the politics that made the sabres rattle!

The generals told them “Worry not, the war will not last long”,

They left their homes and families, and sang the soldiers song.

But the long-laid plans of generals were just a bitter seed,

That reaped a bitter harvest, as they watched their manhood bleed!

They were men like any other, they were fathers, brothers, sons,

Sacrificed by those who never heard the fire of guns!

Loyal and patriotic, for their generals they died well,

As they coughed their life-blood out within that man-created Hell!

Rain and mud, and heat and dust, the seasons passed on by,

As months rolled into years beneath that smoke enveloped sky!

In that place they called the battlefield, they lived, and fought, and died,

In homes throughout the nation, many mothers wept and cried.

For the soldiers of the Kaiser, who had fought the generals’ war,

They had faced the British “Tommy”, they had heard the Lions roar.

At last the guns fell silent, and the Sun rose once again,

They shuffled home, but now they seemed, an army of old men.

No victory parades, and no sabres left to rattle,

Just the memories of the men they’d known, lost in futile battle!

Of horrors now they must forget, never to repeat,

Let not the generals plan again, the sound of marching feet!